A Little Fall of Rain (One-shot)
by ThinkEasy
Summary: A quiet, private conversation between a young Death Eater and his wife. Featuring an OC of mine and one of the most popular Slytherins, Theodore Nott. Nope, I lied. It's that blasted Malfoy boy. Oh I fooled you, didn't I? Sorry, I can't really seem to come up with a good Summary for this. It's much better once you click on this, I promise. Pinky promise actually. Enjoy! (Draco/OC)


Nothing could break the sullen atmosphere in Malfoy Manor. It was a bleak autumn day, with not even the brightly color trees able to lighten the mood. Rain fell heavily outside, and the home was filled with a melancholy light as it drummed on the rooftop. No one walked the spacious halls, no one smiled. The only sound that could be heard was the soft sighing of a young woman, seated daintily on the window seat in the large library, her face solemn as she gazed at the world beyond the glass. Her black dress was simple yet stylish, with a peter pan collar and a skirt that flared to her knees. Black lace tights covered her slim legs, and she wore flats of the same color. Absently, she brushed back a strand of her straight raven hair, pulled up into a loose bun and held with a bow. So lost was she in her thoughts that she didn't notice the door open, and a tall handsome man with platinum hair step inside. He watched her for a moment, with the light reflecting brightly on her pale skin, before smiling softly and clearing his throat.

"Black suits you. It's a lovely dress."

She turned to look at him and smiled back brightly. "Draco."

The Malfoy heir walked across the room, joining her on the seat and holding her hand lightly. "I just got home. Mother and Father are out so I came to see you first. I prefer it that way, anyway."

She nodded and returned her gaze to the view outside. "How was it?"

The silence she received was more than enough of an answer, as both knew that what went on when Draco left could not be spoken out loud. The tasks of Death Eaters were not things to be taken lightly. It wasn't worth risking the Dark Lords wrath. They remained that way for a long time, just staring out the window together, enjoying each other's company. Eventually she looked at him again, searching for injuries and signs of fatigue. They weren't hard to spot. She could see the light purple under his eyes and his veins were bright beneath his pale skin. His face was drawn, and the light in his eyes had dimmed since she'd last seen him. He looked exhausted, worn down from all that he'd seen, from all the things she could never know about while his Lord still breathed. It saddened her greatly to see him like this: a shadow of his former self.

"Draco, look at me?" He turned to her slowly, something flickering in his eyes before disappearing. She reached her hand up, touching his face gently with her fingertips. A sigh passed Draco's lips as he leaned into her hand, bringing his own up to hold hers. "I'm so tired, Sylva." She smiled a little at him. "It'll end soon, won't it?" He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he glanced at the ring on her other hand. "Maybe when it's over we'll have a proper wedding. And move somewhere far away from everything."

"A manor with a garden?" she asked, knowing where this was going.

"And a pond," he replied as he always did.

"And a smiling child of our own," they said together.

It was a ritual of theirs: reminding each other of the future they wanted. One where no one died, no one was hurt, and the threat of death didn't hang over their heads every second of every day. They thought of a child constantly. It passed the time and gave them something to look forward to. Draco always fawned over the idea of a daughter with his blue eyes and Sylva's wavy raven hair. They'd name her Juliet, and she'd love her mother's roses. Sylva would always laugh and say that she'd be Daddy's little princess, and they knew she would, for Draco already had that look in his eye as they talked of their little Juliet.

For now it was a distant dream, something that could possibly never come true depending on the outcome of the war. They tried to stay positive while they hid their true allegiances away, working for the dark and whispering to the light. It was a thin line they danced on. There was always the chance they could be caught. And there were much more painful punishments than death under the Dark Lord's rule. But they tried not to think on it much, for it does not do well to dwell on such things. For now, they followed along: Draco, the obedient and willing servant; Sylva, his obedient and silent wife.

Draco placed both her hands down and shrugged out of his jacket before laying down, his head on Sylva's lap. She smiled down at him, combing her fingers through his hair slowly as he held her other hand again. "I was wondering about something," he started, and brought his eyes up to meet her gaze. She nodded for him to continue. "Did you ever think we would be like this when the betrothal was announced?" The question surprised her, but she didn't hesitate with her answer. "No." It was a plain reply, blunt and honest. Draco had expected nothing less from her, but his curiosity was piqued.

"Why?"

Sylva frowned, and for the first time in a while looked truly uncomfortable answering him honestly. "You were lost, far away from me and trapped in the dark... I didn't know if I could ever find you and bring you back to the surface." Her voice was no louder than a whisper. Draco reached up to her then, cupping her cheek lightly. "Did you find me?" She gave him a small smile. "I like to think I did... but sometimes I don't know." He frowned, confused at her answer. The smile she gave him now was merely a mask for the sadness that shown in her eyes. "Sometimes," she started, giving his hand a small squeeze, "your with me and then gone at the same time. I'll look at you and find your eyes following me, and yet it's like you don't know that I'm there. And then you wake up minutes later from whatever has trapped your mind and I can never figure out what makes you leave so suddenly."

Draco was quiet as he stared up at her. She looked lost and lonely, and he wondered if this was how he looked when they had wed. The expression on her face cut him like a knife, straight to the core, and his gut twisted and flipped at the idea that he had made her so unhappy. They were rarely ever together with the Dark Lord sending him away all the time, and when he came home she was always smiling and ready to comfort him if he needed it. He had always known she was lonely, he would catch glimpses of it when he left or when he found her alone. But the moment she realized he was there it was locked away. He'd never known the full extent of her loneliness, having only witnessed what was on the surface. But now, as he looked at her, it was like he was seeing her for the first time.

Even when they had first been married and Sylva was forced to leave all she loved behind, she hadn't broken. She was solemn and reserved, yes, but never like this. She had always been his rock when he needed her; she had saved him. And yet all this time no one had been her support, the shoulder she cried on when things took a turn for the worse. She'd never seemed to need one. Not when her mother sent a howler after she was sorted into Gryffindor. Not when Aria was petrified during second year. Not when Draco himself had tormented her for years and years. But then, those were such small things compared to now. Now it seemed as though she had met her match, and yet the only person she could turn to was a frequently absent husband.

"...I think about it, what it would be like."

Her eyes widened a fraction; she hadn't expected him to answer. But he didn't want to deny her an explanation any longer, not after seeing how much it affected her.

"What it would be like if what...?"

A memory pushed itself to the forefront of his mind as he watched her expression become curious. When they were at Hogwarts she'd always looked at him like that, as if he were a puzzle she could figure out by staring at him long enough. She'd been a fiery Gryffindor then, full of life and possessing a sharp wit. He'd thought her a nuisance, along with her two best friends. But deep down Sylva had intrigued him: the only girl outside his own house who didn't scorn him with a passion. And now she had become someone he would not trade for the world. She was his best friend, the first he had truly ever had. And she loved him for who he was faults and all.

"Draco?"

The soft call shook him from his thoughts, his eyes refocusing on Sylva's face above him. He reached up his free hand to cup her cheek as she frowned worriedly down at him. "...If I lost you. I think about what it would be like if I lost you." For a moment, she said nothing. Draco couldn't tell what she was thinking, or how the statement had affected her. She just looked at him. "If you lost me?" And suddenly he felt foolish, for she was waiting for some kind of elaboration before she decided what to say. He swallowed his pride, rubbing his thumb lightly against her cheek. "I won't be the same. I think about it and it feels like the world is threatening to collapse in on itself. I can't lose you... I haven't even had the chance to love you as much as you deserve yet."

That was all she needed. At once, a smile appeared on her face. It was teasing, but he could see the underlying thanks in her eyes. "Oh is that all? You show me how much you love me all the time when you're home, Draco." He shook his head, chuckling. "Not as much as I would like. If I could, you'd be receiving dozens of roses each day and all the other women would be jealous as I showered you with gifts and did nothing but praise my lovely wife. I'd come home and sweep you off you feet, carrying you off like a princess. Your own personal knight in shining armor."

They laughed cheerfully, the atmosphere lightening to the mood it usually was filled with when Draco came home. The conversation turned to nonsense things: the recent downpour of rain, the awful dress Pansy had worn to the last ball and how Lucius had been so appalled when she'd come down the stairs, the latest attempt by Blaise to woo Delilah, the letters from Aria and Freyya that came just yesterday. Neither of them noticed the weather clearing up outside, nor the warming of the room as sunlight shone through the window for the first time in days. They were in their own little world, where there was no war and no pain. Just Draco and Sylva, allowing themselves to feel young again, to act their own age instead of the adults they were forced to be. And for once, all was well.

* * *

**Hello!**

**This was just a little something I came up with on a particularly dreary day. Sylva is one of three main OCs of mine (I love them all equally, I swear) in a fiction I have sitting here on my computer about their adventures at Hogwarts. It's not nearly finished yet, but I wanted to share a little something with everyone maybe get some opinions on what people think of her and her relationship with Draco from what I've shown so far. I was actually thinking of spliting the fic into three (one for each of the girls) and write them as a series of one-shots instead of a normal story. One-shots just seem to be easier for me. I dunno, I'll figure it out eventually... I almost started ramble-typing there for a second. That would have been bad XD**

**Anyways, I hope you all liked this. I definitely enjoyed puzzling out exactly how I wanted it :)**

**As always: stay safe, don't do drugs, stay away from bad stuff... all that jazz.**

**Love you guys!**

**Tootaloo,**

**ThinkEasy**


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